


Generation

by Asa_Meda



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, Gen Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-13
Updated: 2011-07-13
Packaged: 2017-10-21 08:22:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asa_Meda/pseuds/Asa_Meda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here's my first offering for AO3 and it's Gen because it was easier to transfer and short but an offering nevertheless.  I was absolutely captured by the boy in "Human Nature/Family of Blood", so much to question.  I merely offer one explanation.  Hopefully most will be entertained.</p><p>There's no real warning I can think of except if you don't like the explanation.  Um... spoiler for "Human Nature/Family of Blood" but no violence or bad words or... like that... oh and the story produces a slightly different ending...</p><p>Enjoy!  Comments welcome!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Generation

It was done. Punishment met out. It had been so long since he had felt this kind of rage, this need for revenge. He had told Martha to take the boy, Timothy, back to the school, to the rooms assigned to him while he was... John Smith... and wait for his return. He asked Joan to go with them but she reasonably told them she needed to see to the injured, to prepare for what might have become of the village.

The Family of Blood were not dead. Secured. In status. In Hell for all he could care. He remembered every moment. Before, during and after the change. Teaching classes. Watching the students. The pain and torture and death the Family had caused in their search for a Time Lord. Their threat to Joan, Martha and Timothy...

Timothy Latimer. Suddenly there was that other issue which needed to be dealt with, a coincidence of circumstance. The boy. The brilliant boy. Timothy was nearly an adult in the eyes of this time period, yet he looked like a child. The teenager had touched the watch and it spoke to him. And Timothy spoke back to it while he hid away, while he watched and waited. The young man had used the watch, the power of a Time Lord with instinctive knowledge he should not have had. Yet the knowledge was there. The knowledge was used. And the Doctor knew there was yet another decision to make before he left this quiet year... the quiet before the Storm that was to come to his country and the world.

He came to his borrowed rooms and took in the wreck that greeted him. The Family had been here; he smelled their presence. They had thrown his things around, emptied his shelves of his books, finding nothing. Martha, still dressed in her domestic costume, sat on the leather sofa next to Timothy, talking quietly, asking questions about this and that, listening and attempting to comfort. Yet the boy wasn't upset. He seemed accepting, more inclined to comfort Martha.

"I know what will happen," the boy said to her as the Doctor watched from where stood, obscured from their sight by a half wall that separated living space from a small storage area. "In a year. In ten years. In your time."

"My time?" Martha's question was casual, indulgent. The Time Lord was proud. At all costs his young companion was still trying to preserve time lines, to give nothing away. He would like to say he had trained her well but she had never needed to be told or taught. She took to time travel like a duck to water with very few skips or bumps. It was why he knew he could trust her, why had he made the decision to hide the way he had.

"You're from the future. When this," he touched her hand lightly, indicated her skin color; "doesn't matter nearly as much as fools today seem to think. You're a doctor."

Martha's dark eyes went wide. "Um... not yet. Tests to pass. Residency to complete."

Timothy looked at her, his expression full of understanding. "You'll be a great doctor... you'll save-" He paused, his own eyes finding the Doctor's in the dim lighting, making it known he had sensed the Time Lord's presence. His expression changed. Tensed. His eyes shadowed. "I shouldn't tell her, should I?"

The Doctor regarded him as he stepped forward into plain sight. His own spine tingled with a nameless terror he knew he had yet to know. Then he shook himself free. "No." Whatever it was, his instincts warned him, it was not to be known. Perhaps not even by this extraordinary child. He turned his attention to Martha. There couldn't be enough words, enough emotions to describe what she was to him now. He remembered all the weeks and months of sacrifice he had witnessed in ignorance; her struggle to do whatever it was she could to remain at his side, even if her own needs, her own personality had to be completely suppressed. There was another, if different, issue he would have to work on when they were gone from here.

"Doctor." Martha stood, her eyes downcast, long ingrained habit now. Then she seemed to remember and raised her eyes to him. "Joan... is she..."

Joan. Another strong, self-sacrificing woman. He loved her. Truly loved her. Even as he was now. But she was a creature of her times. She loved John Smith, the human male of similar social class, the human who could remain at her side through her life. In fact she only saw the Time Lord as the alien he was. Outside. When he offered to take her with him she looked upon him with something near hatred as she asked him if he ever considered the death he brought with him when he chose, at a whim, to hide among them here rather than anywhere else. She had a point. He couldn't fault her that. But it also told him she was not one to roam with him in space and time. Yet he still loved her. He would look after her, make sure her life was as comfortable as he could make it....

"Doctor?" Martha. He found her concerned gaze on him, waiting. Worried. Always waiting. Always worried. The Doctor really needed to make amends to her.

"She's staying," he said simply, with finality. He almost but not quite smiled as he sensed her relief even as he sensed her disappointment. So very human. And he so loved humans. "The Family is gone," he assured her. "Taken care of." He saw her understanding and admired her ability not to ask questions as she simply nodded sadly; sad for him, not the ones who caused all of this. "Why don't you go and rest. It's in Cooper's Field."

She nodded but glanced back at Timothy who sat quietly, his eyes on the Doctor. An odd tension rose in the room and he sensed her silent question. What to do with the boy who seemed to know too much? The Doctor smiled at her in reassurance. "Go ahead. It's all right. Promise."

She hesitated a moment more then turned to Timothy and held out her arms to him. "I know it's not proper in this ti-" She sighed. "Can I get a hug?"

Latimer was on his feet in a moment, an unusual smile on his face as he threw his own arms around her and gave brief pressure. "I'll miss you," he told her.

Martha returned the hug then drew back. "Me too." She glanced at the Doctor, almost as if she wanted to hug him too but held back, setting her face into "servant" mode as she left the room to make her way through the police and army gathered below in her journey to the TARDIS.

 

Alone. The Doctor stepped back and closed the door then used his sonic screwdriver to temporarily seal it. No one to disturb. He turned back to find Timothy sitting on the couch again, his eyes still on the Doctor, waiting. Expectant. Awkwardly the Time Lord studied him as he approached. He noted the light brown hair that would darken with age. Brown eyes. That intent look that held a kind of... something... he knew so well.

"I meant to thank you, Tim," he said quietly as he wondered how to start this, wondered how it would end. "You were very brave."

Latimer shrugged. "I did what the watch told me to do... what you told me to do."

"Ah yes." The Doctor sighed then sat down next to the boy. "Quite amazing that. You hearing the watch, opening it. Confused and distracted them." He paused then added; "kept sniffing you out when they thought it was me."

Now Timothy looked away. His emotions seem to splinter. Anger. Confusion. Undertanding. Misunderstanding. He was silent for a while and the Doctor waited patiently. He would wait hours if needed for this youngster. Finally Latimer let out a great sigh. "I know who you are," he threw out finally.

Yes. The Doctor tried to keep his own reactions in check as he realized where this conversation would go. It wasn't the best path but it was not a bad one. "Do you?" he responded. He wanted Timothy to tell him.

"I've always been different." Acceptance filtered through his voice. "Gram said it was all right. I was special. My mother told her I was, even before I was born. I didn't think so. I was always small, always smart. Made me odd among my peers. I knew things and I didn't know how I knew them, or why. Gram told me I would understand one day. She's a daughter of Banker so she made sure I had the means to come here, even if some doubted my social ranking to do so."

Gram. The Doctor studied the boy. "Where's your mother?"

"Gone." Timothy looked at him. "I was about a month old. She had a difficult time."

Death in childbirth. So common in this time. Latent mourning wafted through him, then guilt. Rose had gone to visit her mother for a few weeks. The Doctor had decided to take a side trip, do temporal repairs. He wound up in 1896, in a small town. Gertrude. Attacked. Lost on a road. Injured. He took her to the TARDIS. Healed her as he could. There was something that attracted him, something that drew him as few humans did. It was an odd time. She needed comfort and contact and so did he. As physical pleasure was shared so was something deeper, something he didn't allow himself to think about. Not love. But... something he'd almost forgotten from his early years. He offered then to take her with him but she refused, gently. She had to take care of her mother, complete her nursing courses. He let her go, content to remember her presence, her pleasure--

"It wasn't your fault, you know."

The teen's still young voice stopped his thoughts. The Doctor's hearts sped up a bit as it all hit him. Her child. His child. He reached into his coat pocket. "I have this device. It won't hurt you. Can I-"

"Yes." Trust. Hesitant but without reservation.

He took out his sonic screwdriver and changed the setting then ran it over Timothy's body, noting differences and similarities. Nothing in this age that would separate him should he be examined by others. Just oddities that would be dismissed. Safe. He put his device away and let himself simply stare at the boy. "I didn't know," he said. "I wouldn't have-"

"I know." Timothy seemed to relax as if some test had been passed. "Gram said you might not."

"My mother was human." The Doctor needed for Timothy to understand. "When I was very young my father brought me to his home... his world. He tried to bring her but my world wouldn't allow it." They had barely accepted the Doctor's existence, made his childhood something he chose not to remember too often. Perhaps except for the support and care his father gave him. "I was more like him than her and it was thought I would do better on his world. But I did get to see her a few times." Over the course of years, as she aged then died. "You are more like your mother than like me."

Timothy cocked his head. "So I won't have to leave my Gram?"

The words were those of a child much younger than his sixteen years. The Doctor smiled. So grown. So mature. So adolescent. "There would be nowhere to take you to now," he answered him as he struggled not to broadcast his own deep horror, guilt and grief. Timothy did not need that darkness in his innocent soul.

"I couldn't go with you anyway," Timothy stated. "In a year there's going to be a war. In a few years I'm going to save Hutchins."

"You shouldn't know that," the Doctor stated, wondering what he was going to do about that. The whole thought of touching his son's mind, to make him forget-

"I know not to share." Timothy stood and faced him. "I tell you because I can. But I can't tell anyone else. Not even my Gram. You can trust me to make sure the," he seemed to search for the right word; "timelines aren't damaged."

He knows. The Doctor let out a long breath as absolute relief surged through him. "I trust you," he declared, willing to end that train of thought

A small smile, one the Doctor was reminded of every time he looked in the mirror, alighted Timothy's face. "You have to go," he said suddenly. "I know what I have to do. It will be all right."

Go. The Doctor stood. He didn't want to go. He had a child... a son. He didn't want to leave him here knowing his son would have to endure a horrific war... two horrific wars. He wanted to take him to the stars, to not be the last of his kind... not completely.

"I have to stay," Timothy repeated as if reading his thoughts. "You know I have to. And you have to go."

Yes. Go. The Doctor cleared this throat of the lump that suddenly appeared there. He hesitated. He couldn't just- he reached into his pocket as he understood the only thing left for him to do for his son. "I want you to have this." He held out the watch that had robbed him, restored him.

Timothy looked at it, uncertain. "It's-"

"Safe," the Doctor told him. "Holds no power now... well almost none." He took Timothy's hand and pressed the watch into it, gasping as he felt the connection made. He heard an answering breath from the young man. Felt the faint presence in the back of his mind, the parental link he had shared with his own father. On impulse he gripped Timothy's hand then let the fingers of his other hand touch his son's temple. _Simply speak my name and I'll hear you. I won't abandon you._

 _Father._ Moisture appeared in Timothy's eyes. The Doctor knew they were rare and pulled the young man into an embrace. In a flash he saw his son's life pass before him. Battles. Peace. Giving. Improving the lives of others as encountered. Love. The Doctor smiled brightly as he sensed that last. Hutchins. There would be a long, healthy life... a little longer than most humans manage but not too much longer.

Then Timothy pushed him away. His eyes were reddened but his expression held a kind of contentment the Doctor himself had always longed for. "Go."

And the Doctor left without a backward glance, some joy replacing some of the darkness in his heart as he headed for the TARDIS and his travels.

finis


End file.
